


Impostor Syndrome

by Serulium



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Fanged Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serulium/pseuds/Serulium
Summary: Virgil wakes up and something is very wrong. He's not in the mindscape, and Thomas is nowhere to me found.He has no idea what to do or if he can keep himself together long enough to figure it out before panic sets in. He never wanted the other sides to see him like this, but now there is no choice. Secrets he's kept for years don't seem to matter anymore in the face of this, whatever this was.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Impostor Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> This dang idea popped into my head at midnight and just wouldn't leave me the heck alone until I wrote it out. This isn't what I planned for my first post on AO3, but it demanded I scream this into the void immediately. So here you go!
> 
> Bring on the flames! I appreciate all feedback, so I can improve my writing! Thank you!
> 
> Enjoy!

The blaring of the alarm broke through the fog in Virgil’s mind, and his body moved instinctively to snooze it. He had slept soundly for the first time in a long time and longed to go back to his peaceful slumber. He pulled the cover over his head to block out the sunlight for another five minutes.

His body went rigid. Every muscle tensed like a coiled spring. Something was _VERY_ wrong here.

He didn’t have an alarm clock.

He didn’t get sunlight in his room.

Throwing the covers off, Virgil jumped to his feet almost pitching to the floor in the process. He was in Thomas’s room. He’d been sleeping in Thomas’s bed. He couldn’t remember feeling the familiar pull of Thomas’s summons, and... where was Thomas? Virgil looked around, but he was alone.

“Thomas?” he called into the empty space, still searching, legs and shoulders tense and ready.

Nothing.

“Thomas?” Virgil called a little louder.

At the continued silence, he began walking to the bedroom door. Maybe this was all just one of Roman’s pranks. “Ha-ha guys, funny. Gotta say this isn’t your best material. You can stop now.”

Pulling the door open, he peered into the hallway. Everything looked normal which was precisely the problem. The extra doors for the other sides were missing, all the personal decorations were missing. It was just Thomas’s hallway. So he had to be in the real world, but that was impossible without Thomas.

He tried to push down the icy fear that began to squeeze his lungs and rise up his throat. Everything about this just felt _wrong._ Maybe the imagination had gone haywire or something. He was just freaking out over nothing like usual.

He slowly stepped into the hallway trying to stay calm as he headed for the stairs. Before he knew it, his walk turned to a run and he was taking the stairs two at a time. But the living room lay empty too.

“Thomas!?!” He couldn’t keep the panic from his voice now as he sprinted through the house searching. “Roman! Patton! Logan!” He dashed through room after room. He needed someone, _anyone._

As he opened the small bathroom he glanced in and almost dashed back out before something in the mirror caught his attention. His hand moved to flick on the light almost without his command. He saw Thomas in the mirror, not himself. He looked down hoping to see his purple pajama hoodie, but instead saw a T-shirt and light blue and white striped pants. The same pants that the Thomas in the mirror was wearing.

He flexed his hands watching the pull of muscle and tendons under the skin. He slowly reached out and touched his reflection. The glass was cool and slippery as the reflection mimicked the movement. This felt too real. His lung’s constricted.

Forcing his palm fully against the smooth surface, he tried summoning his usual clothes, closing his eyes and reopening them. The reflection remained. His breathing picked up. He screwed his eyes shut again and focused with every fiber of his being. Nothing changed. He couldn’t breathe. He tried again… and again… and _again_. But he still saw Thomas in the mirror. His head started to feel light. He couldn’t possibly _be_ Tho- 

Virgil shook his head trying to clear it, trying to calm himself. This didn’t mean _anything_. Weird stuff happened in the mindscape all the time. He had to calm down, think rationally, like Logan. He attempted the 4-7-8 breathing technique, but holding his breath proved too much. _Breathe Virgil, Breathe._ _In… Out… In… Out…_ He coached himself. He had to keep the panic at bay.

Forcing his breathing slower, Virgil’s head began to clear. He kept his shuddering breaths steady, as he thought. He wasn’t Thomas. He just looked like it right now, that’s all. Besides there are ways to confirm he was himself and _not Thomas._ Each side varied slightly from Thomas depending on how he saw that side of himself. Just like how Roman was broader and Logan was taller.

Virgil was just overall smaller. Shorter and skinnier. Looking at his reflection and feeling his ribs, he could tell neither of those differences from Thomas were present.

Despite his best efforts, Virgil’s breathing tore out of him in erratic gasps. This couldn’t be real. There was one other thing he could check, just to be sure. He forced his face to his reflection, pulling his jaw open with both hands to see his teeth. He froze, not moving as his breath fogged the mirror. Two straight rows of teeth. Blood drained from his face and unbridled panic washed over him. He _was_ Thomas. Or at least in his body somehow. His vision tunneled and darkened. A scream began to build in his throat.

 _This can’t be real. This is_ impossible! _What am I supposed to-!_

He jerked from the mirror as a loud blaring broke the silence. His foot slipped on the tile, and he stumbled, bashing his knee painfully on the ground as his arms clutched the sink to keep from falling. Gasping at the pain, Virgil focused on it, trying to ground himself. Air hissed through his teeth. The continued pain proved it. He wasn’t in the mindscape anymore.

If he really was in Thomas’s body right now, he had to keep it together. For Thomas. He couldn’t get hurt like he just had, because he had just _physically_ hurt Thomas. What if he hadn’t caught himself? -if his hands slipped on the sink? -if he had fallen on his _head?!_

Virgil forced back the acid that rose up as he thought that. No. No. That hadn’t happened, and he needed to get it together so it wouldn’t. He had to be careful. More careful that ever. He hoped Thomas would forgive him for hurting his knee, and Virgil wasn’t about to let anything else happen. The blaring wormed its way back into his thoughts as it continued.

Sucking in determined breaths, Virgil stood shaking out the bruised appendage, careful to keep his grip on the sink. First things first, he had to shut off that darn alarm so he could think clearly.

Back in the bedroom, Virgil shut off the alarm and sat on the bed, trying to keep his breathing steady. He had to think like Thomas or like Logan and problem solve. Remove the emotions. Calm down. What would Thomas do?

After a minute or so of just breathing. He realized what he needed to do.

Continuing to count his breathing, Virgil slowly climbed down the stairs, knuckles white on the banister to make _sure_ he didn’t fall. He walked to Thomas’s place in the living room before pacing overtook him. His feet carried him back and forth in the small space.

Step-step-step-turn-

He knew he shouldn’t, he could trip and fall if he continued, hurt Thomas even more, but he couldn’t stop either. Every muscle screamed _‘flight’_ but there was no fight or flight in this situation.

Step-step-step-turn-

He would need focus for this. He needed Logan to help him figure out what to do, so he should get Logan.

…

Step-step-step-turn-

But how? He knew the other sides could summon each other, but he had never done it himself. Was it like a reverse of the pull he felt when summoned? Was it a push?

Step-step-ste-

Virgil forced himself to a stop and closed his eyes.

_Breath in… Breath out… Breath in… Breath out...._

Focusing on the place next to the banister, he imagined pulling Logan out of the mindscape and to the living room. At a surprised grunt, he opened his eyes to see Logan in his unicorn Onesie.

Virgil felt tears well in his eyes with relief. It had worked.

 _“Logan…”_ he breathed as his knees buckled to the carpet. He ignored the spike of pain as his- _Thomas’s_ bruised knee met the floor. He wasn’t alone anymore. Logan would know what to do. Logan could fix this. Whatever _this_ was.

“I would complain about being summoned without notice as such, but you appear to be in distress. Give me a moment to change into my proper attire.” Before Virgil could protest, Logan had returned in his usual tie and polo. “Now what can I do for you?”

“I-” Virgil’s throat closed as he looked at Logic. Pulling his legs to his chest. He curled in on himself, burying his face in his knees unable to look the other side in the eye. He had never let any of the others see him like this before. He had always handled it in his room away from prying eyes. But he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t handle this alone-couldn’t handle _being_ alone this time. This whole situation was beyond any mental crisis he had faced. This was _real._ “I can’t- I-I need _help._ I don-don’t know what to do-” 

From the shuffling sound, Virgil could tell Logan had crouched down “Of course Thomas, anything you need. I’m here for you.” Concern filled Logan’s usually stoic voice.

That was all it took for the dam Virgil had built, holding back all the worry and fear and panic, to crack. Shameful tears streamed down his face, soaking the soft cotton pants. “Tha-That’s jus-just _it_.” First came one sob, then another sob as he tried to force the words out before he completely broke under the stress. He’d face the humiliation later, but right now, Thomas was more important than his image or his stupid pride. “I-I’m n-I’m no-I’m not **_Thomas_** _!”_

“......... _Virgil?!”_


End file.
